


Kurt Drabbles

by Abitscrewy



Series: X-Men Drabbles [1]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst, Bugs, Character with PTSD, Drabble Collection, Feels, Kurt has ptsd, Mental Illness, One Shot, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Short, Therapy, Therapy Session, flies, past trauma, therapist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-17 09:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abitscrewy/pseuds/Abitscrewy
Summary: Kurt has a thing about flies. Technically it’s a trigger for PTSD, but he doesn’t really know that until one day when he’s talking to his therapist. He never understood what it was about flies.Until there was one in her office.





	1. Buzzing

_“Kurt? Are you alright?”_

Kurt was not alright, if he’s totally honest. Something set him off this morning and he’s been jumpy all day. Hyper vigilant. He snaps out of his haze, brows knitting and pulling up.

“Hm..? Oh... No, not... Not really. I don’t know. It feels odd to answer ‘how are you today’ with ‘Mildly alarmed for no particular reason’,” he chuckles a little, trying to lighten his own mood. But he just frowns and holds his elbows.

“Are you sure there’s no reason?” Doctor Rosin is caring and a natural. She’s easy to talk to. At least, now that Kurt has started actually talking during sessions.

“I don’t know.. I feel like there might be but- Ach, zum teufel!” Kurt huffs, swatting away a fly that’s been rather persistent since he entered the office.

“Sorry, must have gotten in through the vent.. I think I have a swatter around here somewhere, but the sound.. Probably wouldn’t be the best for you.” the doctor frowns. Kurt gulps and flinches merely at the thought.

The flinch would have been small. It would have been a small facial expression, but not today. Not in this moment when it clicks. The sound of the fly buzzing as it lands on his ear. Kurt yelps and flails his arms around his head, standing from his seat. His breathing picks up and his eyes widen, he instinctively holds his arms and his tail coils tightly around his ankle.

Doctor Rosin knows his signs. It was somewhere in his file, since his closer friends have seen him panic or go into a fugue state before. She remains sitting though, keeping calm.

“Kurt? You’re safe here, It’s alright. I can go find the fly swatter if-”

“No!-” he said that louder and much faster than he would have liked. He can feel pinpricks of tears in the corners of his eyes.  
“P-please..” he says a little softer, starting to shake.

“Okay, well.. I could use a tissue..? If the fly is bothering you that much?”

“The flies..” Kurt mutters, eyes darting around the room in a desperate search for the flies. Except there’s only one.

“Kurt, you should probably sit down,” she leans forward in her seat, ready to catch him if he falls. He didn’t even know he was swaying on his feet.

He sits back down and buries his head in his hands, trying to focus his breathing. But all he can think of is the feeling of flies resting on his practically paralyzed body. On his lips, in his hair, his arm, his tail.

The shaking gets worse when he remembers something.

“I... When.. When did I..” he gulps, finally looking up. Rosin isn’t staring at him. She’s writing something down. He’s thankful she’s not looking at him, he hates when people stare. He finally collects his more rational thoughts enough to speak clearer. She needs to know what’s going on.

“The flies.. I remembered... I don’t know how I could have forgotten something... Something like that,” he tries not to gag at the thought, shuddering instead. “I... I told you about the freak shows.. I remember.. I remember the one in Canada before I escaped... There were so many of them, constantly buzzing. People would.. Th-throw food or drinks at me,” he clutches his arms again, his breath and words catching in his throat.

“They were all over me.. But I hardly had strength any given day, I couldn’t.. I just would lie there, listening to their buzzing...” his breath hitches once more, and he curls in on himself. His head rests on his knees as the tears start to drop. He hyperventilates for a few minutes and doesn’t quite know if he hears her tell him to breathe or not.

When he regains enough composure to sit back up and reach for his water bottle, he apologizes.

“No, no it’s okay. You’re forgiven, Kurt.. I’m sorry that happened to you, it’s awful...”

“I never could place why I hated flies so much.. Now that I think on it, it makes sense... Living like that for so long, if you can call that living... Twice in my life I was caged like an animal. I do not know how they can deal with the constant.. Buzzing.” he shudders and takes a gulp of his water. The cool feeling in his throat helps to ground him.

“It does make sense. Awful, kind of terrifying sense. And it’s okay to be upset by it.”

“I know... I just...”

“Still feel bad?” she smiles knowingly.

“Yes.. What was it you had called it? Conditioning?” When she first mentioned it he was confused, thinking she meant hair conditioner. “As a child in the menagerie, they would... They would be very upset if I spoke out or complained... Especially about flies or bugs in the cage.. They would tell me it is what I deserved, being an animal..” he grimaces.

Kurt takes a long, deep breath. “But we are all animals. Humans are animals.. People seem to forget that.”


	2. A Repressed Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A repressed memory of when Kurt was a child  
> CW: Electric shock, imprisonment, kidnapping, abuse,

A repressed Memory.

“STOP, LET ME GO, LET GO OF ME!” he screams, struggling against the grip of soldiers. Ones trained for situations just like this, trained to keep a grip on a desperate mutant. Because that’s all he is to them. Another freak, a wild animal.

He manages to kick one in the back of the knee and grab the other’s legs with his tail. They all go toppling to the floor, and he starts off on all fours. Shakily trying to run away, grasping at the collar around his neck in a feeble attempt to rid himself of it. All he gets is pain.

The world shakes and spins around him, colors flashing on the insides of his eyelids. He didn’t even notice he’d closed his eyes. All he knows is pain. He feels a weight on his chest and doesn’t know what it’s from until he opens his eyes. One of the soldiers has a heavy knee on his chest. Breathing is getting much harder for Kurt. He weakly tries to push the weight off of him and is greeted with a hefty fist against his cheekbone.  
The world goes black.


	3. Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt during a full-on PTSD attack.  
> CW: PTSD, fugue state, triggers, mental illness, general panic,

It hit like a truck almost exactly.

First you have the loss of breath, that tightness in your chest like when something hits your stomach or you fall too hard.

It could have been anything.   
A man shouting on the street.  
A man with small round glasses,  
The sound of a whip,  
That fake electricity sound,  
Picking up a knife.  
His hands feeling slick for some reason,  
A group of three men,  
Standing at the edge of a pier,  
The taste of saltwater  
Sounds like guns, cages, animals in cages,

Whatever the trigger, it’s too fast to stop. He can’t run from it or dodge it like he does with punches. It latches onto him and follows him even if he teleports. He freezes or falls to hands and knees, trying to regain his breath. His tail coils tightly around his calf. He stares into nothing for the longest time, then his eyes close. He’s afraid to open then, afraid to see what isn’t there.

_I’m here. I’m right here I’m in my room I’m safe..  
_ _Oh God help me…_   
_I can hear him._   
_No, no I’m not a monster! I’m not a freak, please…_

He can hear them. Memories voiced in his head telling him the things they always do. Telling him he’s a demon, a monster, freak, disgusting, abomination, against God’s work.

‘ ** _Come now, son. We’ll have a talk._** ’  
A crack of a whip that isn’t there. Phantoms surround him and he starts to shout instead of thinking. Someone in the next room calls for the professor. Any of them.

By the time someone gets there, he’s sobbing and holding the edge of his rosary so tight to his palm that it threatens to bleed. He just needs something to pull him out of it all, but anyone approaching him is met with more terror. Pushing further back into his corner, shouting apologies and pleas in German. Xavier can’t stop it.

“This is something he must work through in his own mind, in his own way. But that doesn’t mean we can’t help. Get Kitty and Logan.”

Kitty was already on her way. She heard him screaming, and this is something she’s helped him through before. She comes through the wall and approaches quietly.   
“Hey fuzzball,” she manages a smile, kneeling down and placing a hand on his arm. He flinches and looks up.

“The world spins… Please.. Bitte Gott hilf mir..” he curls back up and Kitty phases the rosary out of his hand so he doesn’t hurt himself.

“It’s okay, Kurt. You’re here in your room with us. Everybody’s super worried about you. But we all know you can get through this. Me especially, I know you can do this… It’s awful what you went through. We all know what terrible stuff is like.” Logan just arrived, and is sitting next to him.

“Hey elf.” he grunts. He’s not so great with emotion but hey he brought beer. Contrary to popular belief he does know how to be sort of gentle. He scooches closer to Kurt and puts a hand on his back, patting lightly.  
“Of anybody here I know what it’s like. There ain’t no getting rid of it for good. It’s always gonna be there around some random corner an’ ya don’t even know why. Not much you can do about it, kid…”

They spend at least an hour comforting him. A few minutes in, he relapses and just gets worse but they pull him out. At some point Kitty manages to get one of his feet to cling to an ice pack. It helps him snap out of it. It wasn’t cold in his memories, it was fiery hot. Hot with pain and tears and hurt.  
The cold is different.  
The cold is proof, and he holds it tight.

It takes him a while after that to calm, but once his tail wraps around one of the beers Logan knows it’s better now. They don’t leave though. Kitty and Logan stay up all night with him, watching old movies until he passes out.

Nobody questions him in the morning. They treat him just the same.


End file.
